


Gingerbread Houses and Missing Princesses

by TheMatraPseudoBiblica



Series: Random Works of Weirdness [6]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: Rise of Empire Era - All Media Types
Genre: Christmas, F/M, Fun, Riddles, gingerbread, houses
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-04
Updated: 2015-12-08
Packaged: 2018-04-30 02:11:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 3,038
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5146454
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheMatraPseudoBiblica/pseuds/TheMatraPseudoBiblica
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Emperor Palpatine's granddaughter has a mind of her own and has hidden herself among the palace staff. The Admirals, Generals, and the Grand Moffs are looking for her because the Emperor has promised her hand to the man who can find her.</p><p>Who could possibly be able to outhink the Emperor's brilliant grandchild?</p><p>The Emperor's brilliant Admiral, of course. Thrawn pits himself against the Princess at the height of the Holiday season,  a time of massive confusion and insanity. In between the messes he's tossed into and the messes he manages to make for himself, he barely has any time to look for the Princess. But what really matters this Holiday season? Personal power and glory or a friend's happiness?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Thrawn May as Well be the Grinch

Grand Admiral Thrawn hated Christmas. And it wasn't because he was a dead ringer for the Grinch, as the Emperor had suggested. It was because at Christmas, the world was turned topsy-turvy. The Emperor smiled and cracked bad jokes. Tarkin got drunk and went around snogging any random woman who would star still. Veers wore red and green that clashed so badly that Thrawn was surprised his eyes weren't knocked out every time he looked at him. Mysterious trees covered in multi-colored ornaments appeared everywhere, including his bedroom.

You can imagine how well that went over. His alignment was completely ruined. It didn't help that packages from various people, almost total strangers, ended up under the tree, further ruining his decor.

It was even worse when Pelleaon attempted to explain the gift-giving tradition to him.

"You see, you put a present under someone else's tree every day until Christmas." Pelleaon pointed out a gold package. "That one's mine."

"Indeed. What if I don't want to give anyone a gift?"

"Well... You're perfectly within your rights." Pelleaon had become disappointed and withdrawn as soon as was possible while still being mannerly.

That left Thrawn trying to figure out what one would give your second in command.

It didn't help that all of the higher command was engaged in a hide-and-seek looking for the Princess. The man who found her would be allowed to ask for her hand in Marriage. Thrawn wasn't eager to marry, but the man who did marry her would become Emperor after her grandfather.

The idea of Tarkin finding her first gave Thrawn the creeps.


	2. The Tree Shot First!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> One of the messes Thrawn gets himself into.

The tree attacked first. That was all Thrawn was willing to say or admit. He was in the grand hall, doing the Emperor's bidding and observing the servants setting up. There were few female ones, but anyone might be the princess in disguise.

Anyway, he stepped back to get out of the way of a servant carrying a pile of boxes and into the embrace of a tree. The ornament hooks must have gotten stuck in his uniform because he couldn't step forward again. Trying to get loose, he pulled the tree down on top of him.

Covered by the smothering scent of pine and knowing beyond a shadow of a doubt that he was getting covered in sap, Thrawn struggled out from underneath it into a pile of broken glass.

Holiday Spirit. Fun.

As it turned out, his tree had caught on a banner and pulled it down. The banner pulled down other various decorations and tapestries and even knocked down a few more trees.

The destruction was laughed about, long and hard, at dinner. Thrawn did his utmost to save his dignity and kept a dank expression from his face.

That was when the Emperor revealed his obsession with Gingerbread Houses.

As if Thrawn didn't have enough to deal with.


	3. This Was a Bad Idea...

Visiting the kitchens was a bad idea. Curious, Thrawn had gone to see the gingerbread houses under construction. 

That was another bad idea.

The gingerbread houses were being built in a small room off the main kitchen. As Thrawn was opening a door, the gingerbread expert was coming through with an enourmous house covered in frosting and candies. Of course, the door knocked it out of her arms.

"OI! You moron!" The woman dropped to her knees amid the fragments. "You bloody moron!"

"I apologize. I wanted to see the gingerbread houses." Thrawn bent over to help her pick them up.

"Well, now you've seen what happens when one falls." She tartly responded. "That took me a week to complete."

"I'm terribly sorry."

"Your sorry won't save my job if the Emperor is down a gingerbread house on Christmas." She snapped. "And the other servants are morons. I can't stand working with them."

"Surely there's someone who can help."

"NO!" She drove him from her workshop and slammed the door.

Well, that was harsh.

Thrawn mentioned it to the Emperor later that evening.

The Emperor thought that was massively funny. "Well, if she doesn't want to work with morons, I suppose you'd better offer your services."

That was actually an excellent idea. If the princess was among the staff, he should go to where the staff were, shouldn't he?


	4. The Expert

Thrawn presented himself the next morning in his civilian clothes. The gingerbread expert was less than thrilled. "What are you doing down here?"

Thrawn folded his hands. "I wondered if you might like help."

Yesterday's incident was clearly still on her mind. "I might need it." She grudgingly admitted. "I suppose you can't mess up too badly if I keep an eye on you."

Thrawn nodded. "Thank you."

"Incidentally, have you heard that the princess is hiding out down here?" She picked up a bowl of white icing and went back to filling a line of icing bags. "She'll stick out like a sore thumb."

"Perhaps." Thrawn was at a loss. "But she might have inherited her father's subtlety."

"Maybe. Well, don't just stand there. Begin rolling out that gingerbread dough." She motioned to the dough. "There. Go on."

Thrawn rolled up his sleeves and set to work.


	5. If At First You Don't Succeed...

Thrawn wasn't one to characterize himself as a moron. If asked, he probably would have cooly told the person that everyone was entitled to being a moron once in their life. Genius was making sure that one didn't exceed the limit.

He felt like a moron by the time he finished rolling out the dough.

In his defense: The dough was sticky and he had never done something like this before.

Also, it shot first.

He had the feeling there was one way to come through Christmas with his dignity intact. But becoming piebald through a combination of flying flour, sugar, and spices was not the way.

The chef wasn't helping all that much either. She became frustrated easily and had a temper as fiery as her red hair. Her sharp tongue flew often enough, lashing out like a whip.

The only consolation the humiliated Admiral had was that she was as piebald as he was.

She also gossiped, long and hard on the topic of the princess. Thrawn kept his ears open as he cut straight lines in the brown dough.

"Honestly, though, the idea of promising a woman's hand in this day and age is ridiculous!" She snapped over icing. "No one arranges marriages anymore!" She slathered one of the roofs of the tiny village with white icing and began shingling it with necco flakes.

"I'm sure the Emperor has his reasons." Thrawn put forth.

"Perhaps." She snapped, irritable. "Is that in the oven yet?"

"It's going." Thrawn peeled away the last of the dough and slid it in. "What next?"

"Help me with these roofs." She turned back to her work. "And tell me about yourself."


	6. Enough About Gingerbread...

Thrawn sat down on a stool near her and picked up a spatula. "What's there to tell? I'm an officer in the Imperial Navy. I serve the Emperor and the Empire."

"You're not a droid. Therefore, you must have a life and be a person occasionally." She dryly stated.

"I like art. It gives me great insight into other cultures." He put forth.

"Mmm?" She encouraged.

"I read sometimes and walk through the gardens to see the flowers."

"You live an incredibly tame life." She moved with efficiency, out-pacing him. "What do you do for excitement?"

"For excitement? I spar occasionally."

"That's it?"

"That's it."

She rolled her eyes and shook her head. "Boy, howdy. No wonder you're single. Bet you're great with kids, too."

Thrawn had no answer to that.


	7. Let's Kitchen... Lube Chicken? Leg Smucker? LEBKUKEN YOU DOLT!

Thrawn had never been so confused in his life. He had reported to the specialist's room prepared to go to work on the gingerbread people. The instant he had come in, the specialist shouted, "Let's Chicken, get the Marzi's Pan!"

When he had inquired, she had screamed equally loudly, "LUBE KITCHEN! GET MOXIE PAN!"

Practically blown off of his feet by the noise, Thrawn still didn't understand what she wanted. 

Finally, she huffed off, cursing in seven different languages and got out a can of something labeled "Marzipan." Meanwhile, Thrawn peeked at the recipe and found that it was labeled "Lebkuken." Some kind of almond gingerbread.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this one's so short. Running low on energy. Finals, you know.


	8. Sweetness and Light

"Gingerbread is an art form. No one appreciates that anymore. Used to be whole families would go at it with everyone in the family. Now, no one does. It's sad." The Emperor was lecturing. 

Thrawn was barely listening. He had heard something very similar from the gingerbread lady earlier that morning.

She had been in a good mood. With Thrawn's help, she had managed to get back on track and was no longer stressed. "Gingerbread is an art. It used to be a holiday tradition that families indulged in every year."

"Indeed?" Thrawn had been listening then, mostly to see whether or not she had anything new to say about the hidden princess.

"Yep. Gingerbread houses, men, villages... Even cakes, if you'll believe that. I loved it when my grandfather and I used to wander down to the kitchen and spend a whole afternoon making the biggest mess possible." She laughed, frosting something he couldn't see from his current position.

"Your grandfather?"

"He raised me. My parents are dead. Christmas was our holiday." She sighed softly. "He was everything to me."

Thrawn leaned on one hand. "That's sad. I'm sorry."

"Don't be. Can't miss what you never had." She handed him the cookie she'd been frosting. "Here. We both deserve a break."

Thrawn looked down at the cookie and came face-to-face with his own doppelganger in gingerbread. "Thank you." He studied his portrait. 

"You're welcome." She viciously bit down on her own doppelganger. "All right. Break's over, back on your heads." She turned back to the winter palace in honey gingerbread and kept following delicate patterns. "You know what I'd love to get the chance to make? A gingerbread house for myself. Something simple, not too fancy." She shook her head. "Never the time for anything. I'd have to work nights." She sighed. "I used to finish one for myself every year on the eighteenth. Don't ask me why."

"You'd have to have it by tommorrow. I'm sorry." Thrawn realized that the house was more important than she was making it out to be. He also uncomfortably realized that it was probably his fault. 

"On the other hand, I've found out where the princess is sleeping. Apparently, she couldn't stand not being upstairs with the folks." She waited for Thrawn to hum with interest. "She's in the third floor bedroom that faces the lotus pool in the garden. Only a floor beneath her bedroom."

Thrawn perked. That was the first solid hint he had heard. He would have to check it out.


	9. Choice, Chance, and Change

Thrawn was ready to attempt to spot the princess well before dinner was over. If he had to listen to Moff Jerrjerrod singing "Ding Dong Merrily on High" one more time, his head was going to explode.

Finally, the Emperor stood up. "We should all get some sleep. It's Saint Lucia day tommorrow and you'll have to get up early if you want a chance at seeing the procession."

"Procession? What procession?" Thrawn looked up.

"The Lucia procession, of course. A parade of carollers with candles will walk through the square tommorrow near dawn. A girl dressed as Saint Lucia will be leading them with a crown of candles. Lucia was blind and legend says that she wore the candles to help her see. There will also be a special breakfast on the balcony for the early risers." The Emperor explained.

That sounded fascinating. Thrawn made a mental note to set his alarm for earlier than normal.

At last, the time came to slip off to the third floor. Thrawn began making his way over there. However, as he was passing the stairs that led down to the kitchens, he suddenly heard a voice echoing through his head. "I'd like to make a house for myself." 

He stopped and shook himself. There was no time for silly sentiment. Christmas was a week away and the fate of the Empire hung in the balance.

He took another step. "I used to finish one before the eighteenth."

He waffled a moment, looking down the corridor and back at the stairs before slowly turning and retreating down to the kitchens. The dusty old recipe book was lying on the counter and he flipped it open to the appropriate page.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The plot thickens...


	10. I Love the Smell of Saffron in the Morning

Princess Solyndra stepped into the gingerbread workshop at about three AM. She had been waiting all night to see if Thrawn would take her tip-off. She and her most faithful servants were keeping eyes on her potential suitors to spot for character traits. So far, all but Thrawn had taken the bait and proved themselves greedy, power-slobbering pigs not interested in anything but the throne.

She folded her arms at the sight in front of her.

The gingerbread house was simple, but structurally sound. It was a cottage made of molasses gingerbread and decorated mostly with icing. The roof had been shingled in necco wafers and was sprinkled with colored sugars to make it glisten. There were frosted windows and icicles, clumsily made. No doubt, it had been a spur-of-the-moment project. She smiled softly to herself as she regarded the gumdrop-lined path leading from the door and a small ice-cream cone christmas tree beside the chocolate door. Of course, the marshmallow snowman and clumsily iced child and what looked like a stereotypical grandfather beside it made her smile.

She pulled a small, gold ring off of one finger and laid it beside him. Then, she slid out.

Thrawn woke up to the smell of something strange and warm. "Mmmm?" He blinked awake and found that he had glued his face to the counter with royal icing. He must have fallen asleep on an icing bag and the frosting dried. Muttering, he grabbed a proffered scraper and began chipping away. "Thank you."

"You know, most people go to bed when they're about to fall asleep." The gingerbread lady pointed out. She was facing away from him, making slight corrections to his carefully crafted house.

"I'm not most people." He finally peeled his face off of the counter and sat up, rubbing his eyes. "What time is it?"

"About eight o'clock. You missed breakfast. I brought you some Saint Lucia rolls."

"What...?" He noticed the plate of pale yellow rolls sprinkled with sugar and twisted into what looked like S's.

"Lucia Rolls. They're made with saffron and pearl sugar. The shape is supposed to look like a pair of eyes. Enjoy." She stepped back. "There, that's better. Your construction was good, but the devil's in the details."

Thrawn noted that the house looked slightly more perfect than before. "Most people would say 'Thank you.'"

"I'm not most people." She pointed out. "By the by, I didn't know you wore jewelry."

"I don't." Thrawn glanced to his right and noticed the ring. "Oh... Wow."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In case it wasn't entirely obvious, the gingerbread lady is the princess. SPOILERS!


	11. Five Gold Rings

Thrawn picked up the ring. "I've no idea where this came from. But it's beautiful. Do you think someone could have left it?"

"I doubt it. No one comes back here but me and you." She was mixing a gingerbread so pale that it might have been white. "They're scared of me."

"I wonder why." Thrawn quipped, rolling the ring between his fingers.

"Doubtless jealousy. Who wouldn't be green with envy at my gorgeous hair?" She began humming a familiar carol. "On the fifth day of Christmas, my true love gave to me... Five gold rings."

Thrawn snorted, still rolling the ring. "What are you making?"

"A gingerbread igloo. Want to help?"

"I thought you'd never ask." Thrawn stood up, finishing off the saffron bun in his hand. "I'll be right back. I'm going to get this icing out of my hair."

"That's what he said." She muttered, shaking her head.


	12. The End of the Mystery

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Here it is: The End. There will be a sequel, don't worry.

Thrawn reached his room and took a shower. The dried sugar stubbornly clung to his hair long after his skin had surrendered the white irritant.

When he came out, there was a second ring hanging on a red thread in the middle of the room. He did a double take and stared at it. it was exactly the same as the first: A slim band with ridges. 

Thrawn took the ring and looked at it. He had the feeling that someone was playing with him. He also had a sneaking suspicion who it was.

He decided not to worry about the ring and headed downstairs towards the kitchen. 

The specialist was decorating a gingerbread figure, not a 2-dimensional cookie, either, but a full figure. It was a woman in a white wedding dress. When Thrawn came in, she stood up and turned around. "Hey, you're back."

"I never asked your name." Thrawn folded his arms. "But I think I know it."

"Indeed?" She raised an eyebrow. "I won't play coy. I know when I'm beaten."

"Why? Why did you bring me here?" He frowned. "Surely you knew I would figure out who you are."

"I play by my own rules." She lifted her chin and stared him down. "And I make my own fate."

"You chose me." He bluntly states. "Why?"

"Because you're loyal, trustworthy, and do not have a personal agenda that clashes with the best interests of the Empire." She smirked and a little sass came back to her face. "If you're a klutzy moron, I suppose it's not your fault."

Thrawn's lip twitched slightly into a half-smile. "You haven't seen me in my element."

"Not Christmastime, surely." She smiled. "You may as well see what I'm working on."

"It's you in a wedding dress." Thrawn looked. "You're beautiful."

"I have you still baking." She nodded to the oven. 

"What are we standing in front of?"

"It's a model of a little country church on Naboo. A lovely little place." 

"We'll have to go there."

"Yes, soon."

"How about next week?" The Emperor asked from behind them.

The two younger adults whirled. Solyndra snapped, "How do you do that?"

"It's a gift." The Emperor pranced out, humming. A truly disturbing sight.

"You'll get used to it." Solyndra smiled at him. "Come on. Let's go."


End file.
